Uniform Code
by Fixomnia Scribble
Summary: Decoding a uniform by its regalia isn't hard, if you know the code. Families, not so much. A missing/deleted scene from between 9x01 "Playing With Fire" and 9x02 "Meet The New Boss".


_Inspired by the following conundra: 1) How did Jamie get his new uniform gear so quickly after receiving his results and 2) Why was Eddie nearly choked up over the warm welcome the Reagans have given her, when they were actually pretty self-involved and dismissive until last episode?_

* * *

Uniforms are kind of a big deal.

In fact, it would be fair to say that the most important visual aspect of public policing is the uniform. It's how people know who's on Team Moral Good, in an ideal world, or who to run from, otherwise. It's a visual representation of discipline, orderliness and pride. An astute individual can read your rank, experience, home precinct and special skills at a glance.

Outside the NYPD, the uniform itself is iconic and instantly recognizable. Within the force, the individual regalia of each officer is even more important. You gotta know who to salute first, and how to address them, and what you can ask of them.

Uniform repairs are done at any one of a list of approved tailor shops around the state. There aren't many skilled tailors in the NYPD. Most officers barely know how to fix a dangling button, let alone a kicked-out trouser cuff hem. At the Academy, everyone was instructed not to attempt their own uniform maintenance unless they were confident they could meet the professional standards.

Which is why Jamie Reagan is sitting on his couch at home on Saturday morning, hunched over his coffee and fiddling with a half-dozen pairs of gleaming new Sergeant's chevrons in a plastic envelope, wondering what to do.

As the high scorer in the promotion field, he knew he'd be placed out quickly, but things have moved _fast_. He got his results on Friday. His promotion to Sergeant takes effect at 0700 hrs on Monday morning.

Meyer's could have all his shirts, his two duty jackets and his dress jacket done in a week, they told him. Schlesinger's is even more backlogged, and his family has never gone anywhere else but those two shops.

He could take them to any tailor that's open on the weekend, he supposes, but the quality varies so much. Not all shops understand uniform precision, or have experience with NYPD regalia placement. He hates to admit it, but his own mending skills are lousy. His mother and grandmother were always his backup for emergency button, badge and belt-loop repairs. Linda had always checked over and attended to all her boys' uniforms and her own scrubs too, and sent out things beyond her time and skill to Meyer's.

He thinks very quickly of Eddie, and Erin, and just as quickly discards the thought. No doubt they're better at such things than he is, but he's not going to ask, for many reasons.

 _Can't I even sew on a badge with straight edges?_ he berates himself. Not to the required machine-neatness, anyway, he reasons next. He'd botch the job for sure.

 _Could I maybe use that iron-on goop, just for one shirt?_ But no, he's never used it before. It might get everywhere, he thinks, or not hold properly.

"Admiring your new shiny?" Eddie asks, startling him. She wanders out into the living room in his blue button-down from yesterday and nothing else, looking incredible. He falls in love with her sleepy morning voice and messy hair all over again.

"More like beating myself up for being such a typical dude," he sighs, "I could've learned to sew by now."

She takes the package out of his hand, and drops it on the coffee table, arranging herself bare legs artfully on his lap. "Didn't I tell you today was for chilling out?"

She loops her arms around his neck, and as delightful it is to have a lapful of mostly-naked Eddie, he needs to think.

"Yeah, but I – " she kisses him. "Oh! Wait – Dad's got an actual tailor – " and she kisses him again.

"Do you trust me?" she purrs.

"Eddie, what…" he blinks and looks down at his warm armload. "Yes. What did you do?"

"Nothing!" she says, maddeningly, her eyes wide. "I didn't do a thing. Come on. Shower. Breakfast at Solly's. Then we need to get groceries and lasagna fixin's for tomorrow. I'm taking over your kitchen, okay? It's bigger than mine."

She slides off again and stands, pulling him to his feet as he grumbles.

"You can count on me," she says to him, seriously.

* * *

She reminds him again of that line-item of their vows on Sunday, as they're getting ready for dinner. Clearly she knows something's been planned or she'd have let him call his dad for the name of a trusted tailor shop. Even one that charges triple for rush weekend work. He's starting to get antsy, though, and he's a little brusque as they set off. While it's nice to know that she's not worrying, he hates being left in the dark.

"Sergeants," Frank greets them, when they arrive at the house. They both grin, at that.

"Not till tomorrow," he reminds his father. "And a month or two for Eddie."

"Might as well get used to it," his father goes on. He follows them to the kitchen, where they gratefully drop off the heavy dish of lasagne and tubs of salad and rolls. "Leave all that for a second. It'll keep."

They usually have a glass of something before dinner in the sitting room, and Frank ushers them there, apparently eager to get a start. Oddly, he knocks sharply, twice, and then swings the door open, his eyes twinkling and the smallest twitch in his moustache.

"SURPRISE," yells everyone standing around the room. Jamie grabs the doorjamb and catches his breath. The room is festooned with navy-blue balloons on pale blue ribbons, some bobbing along the ceiling, others clustered on the desk. As Jack hits the stereo remote, upbeat 60's swing music fills the air.

"Congratulations, Uncle Jamie!" Nicky cries, bouncing up with a hug. "It's your and Eddie's Passing Party!"

"So I see," he says, hugging her back.

"I s'pose you're gonna make me salute you first, now," Danny snarks, handing him a glass of red wine. "Lookit the pair of you. Newly engaged, newly promoted. You with the new medal," he raises a toast to Eddie. "Charmed life, I tell you."

"Take the DS exam," Eddie suggests, reasonably. "Then everything will be back to normal."

"I may have to, just to keep up the natural order of things."

"Speaking of the order of things," his father says, "Try these on for size."

He's holding out a large suit hanger, with a clear zippered cover. Jamie spies a brand new duty jacket, with stripes already affixed. There are two short-sleeved shirts underneath, which he assumes have stripes as well.

"… _oh_ ," he says, the penny dropping, as Eddie snickers behind him. "Hey, thanks!" They must have planned this soon after the exam, confident that he'd pass. And Eddie knew all along.

It's then that both he and Eddie realize that Erin's holding out another hanger, with a smaller set of gear, with stripes.

Eddie stares. Jamie feels a warm glow take hold in his chest, looking at her face, and the faces of his family.

"But I thought – " she begins, as Erin drapes the clothes over her arm. "Oh, my God. Thank you! This is…"

"It's our pleasure and pride. And thank you for keeping Jamie's a secret," Frank smiles, "You didn't think we'd leave you out, I hope? I know your placement isn't determined yet, but when it is, you'll be ready."

As Eddie works hard at regaining her composure, Frank tactfully turns to Jamie.

"Congratulations, kid," he says. After heartily shaking Jamie's hand, he turns back to Eddie.

"Congratulations, kid," he repeats.


End file.
